Gonji: The Soul Within the Steel. T. C. Rypel

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СКАЧАТЬ repair work being done on the drawbridge, torn loose during the castle occupation.

      The bombard on the opposite wall blasted its charge in a high arc over the hills. From beyond the outer bailey came the bellowing roar of the cretin giant, Tumo, frightened by the blast. Soldiers on the walls laughed and pointed. Klann looked at the guards, and Gorkin chuckled nervously. Before a word was spoken a deep shadow stretched over the ward: They all looked up, breaths hitching at the sight of the wyvern, unfurling its massive wings in the tower battlement above their heads.

      “No enemy shall ever assail us here,” Klann said at last. But his voice had quaked ever so slightly.

      (don’t be so sure of yourself)

      (never relax your vigilance never)

      Klann shut his eyes and a trembling coursed through him. It passed presently.

      “What do you think about our prospects, Gorkin?” he asked without looking at his edgy castellan.

      “I believe you’re quite right, sire. Next time we’ll—”

      “Stop agreeing with me because it’s what you think I wish to hear. Tell me what you think.”

      Gorkin rolled his eyes groundward. “The astrologers have consulted the stars, and prospects are good for finding Akryllon next spring—”

      “A plague on the astrologers!” Klann stormed. “Tell me what you think about our decision to stay here!”

      The general’s form sagged visibly. “I—I must admit to some apprehension, milord. I don’t like this place. It masks something...foreboding. Already there’s been trouble—the Field Commander’s murder—the city seems restive—Have you seen the arrow stub? In the flying monster’s hide?” His voice had shrunk to a whisper.

      Klann laughed. “Yes—and that’s good! Don’t look at me like that—I’m making good sense. I understand the guilty have paid the price. But this should be a grand territory for recruiting the kind of men we need, eh? Men who sally forth against monsters? No, you’re wrong, Gorkin. This is a fine place to stay, and here will come a turning point for us.”

      He grew pensive, an ominous shadow darkening his features, moving the soldiers with him to unease.

      “One more thrust—and we’ll be home—and nothing, nothing must stand in our way—”

      (don’t pay it lip service do it pursue it)

      (what else can be done?)

      (nothing it is gone forever)

      The king shuddered in such a way that Gorkin reached out to catch him lest he fall, but Klann waved him off.

      A retainer appeared, seeking the king’s attendance on business broached by his counselors. But Klann dismissed them all, wishing to be alone—to the extent the mocking term could apply to him. Against his better judgment, General Gorkin sent the guards back to their duties and himself reluctantly turned to go.

      “Gen-kori,” Klann called to him.

      The castellan turned slowly, eyebrows uplifted. The Kunan term Klann had used was akin to saying “old-timer” or “longtime comrade.” It was an affectionate usage.

      “My liege?”

      “It was he at the boxing match?”

      “So Captain Sianno said.”

      Klann nodded and sent him off. A warm nostalgic rush filled the king on whom incident and legend had bestowed the attributive Invincible.

      And then, as if out of nothing, the sorcerer Mord appeared at his side.

      They stared at each other for a space, neither uttering a word even in greeting. Mord’s black marble eyes gleamed impassively from behind the gold filigreed mask.

      “Remove that shaft from your beast’s hide,” Klann said without preamble. “It has an adverse effect on the troops’ morale.”

      He walked off toward the gatehouse and back into the central ward as if the audience were ended, but Mord fell into step with him.

      “Not so easily accomplished,” the sorcerer’s murky voice offered in reply. “But I shall do it when I can spare the time. I carry the reminder here.” He patted his abdomen, the same vicinity in which the arrow stub protruded from the wyvern’s underbelly.

      They walked in silence through the gatehouse, emerging into the ward, out of earshot of any soldiers. The clamor of weapons practice continued. A small cluster of men gathered around an injured mercenary, whose clavicle had been broken in a fencing bout.

      “Why can’t you use your power to heal injuries like that one?” Klann asked, pointing. “So much pain might be alleviated.”

      “Not an easy task, correcting specific ills of the flesh. Spells of destruction are so much more simply wrought, and at far less cost to the worker.” Mord’s evil grin could be felt from behind his mask, though nothing could be seen through the tiny breathing holes.

      Klann scowled, and the sorcerer lifted his hands in a mollifying gesture. “But of course, milord, if a man’s faith is strong enough, it may be translated into the mana necessary for healing. However, few men possess such faith.”

      “Faith,” Klann intoned resignedly. He angled away from the scene, affecting regal nonchalance, hands clasped behind him. Mord walked a step to the rear, his gloved hands concealed inside the folds of his sleeves.

      “So many men dead in Austria,” Klann said, shaking his head sadly. “After all concessions to ‘faith’ in your god were made, still their god was stronger. You disappoint me at times, Mord.”

      “Mi-lord,” Mord minced, “you do me grave injustice. Have I not done all that you’ve commanded? Any shortcomings being directly attributable to lack of faith among your subjects? We’ve discussed this matter many times. My Master is implacable in this regard. He demands complete faith and unstinting devotion. Given these, the power he may impart to me is limitless. If you would but permit me the ritual human sacrifice I’ve suggested—”

      “No!” Klann shot, then quickly regained composure and lowered his voice. “Don’t broach that subject again. It’s purest animal savagery. It was in allowing such foul dabblings that my father lost the throne of Akryllon. All I ask of you is that you assist me in regaining it. Your time of proof will soon be at hand. Next spring...yes, in the spring....” Klann waxed reflective, teeth gritted.

      “I shall vindicate myself, have no fear,” Mord said airily. “But I really cannot understand your attitude toward sacrifice: You’ve never denied me subjects for my experiments in working at the charm of dividing.”

      The king looked like a man who had swallowed an emetic. “That is...a different matter—how goes it?”

      “Very well. Soon I shall be able to show you the result of my most recent progress. But there is another thing that troubles me now. This banquet—I must lodge my protest against it. These people are full of deceit and treachery. They’re stubborn and dangerous. They’ve already murdered your field commander and fired on my familiar. They’ll resist you at every turn and will СКАЧАТЬ